


No Place for A Child

by BreakfastPasty, BreakfastPastyDrabbles (BreakfastPasty)



Series: John Wick Is A Good Dad [1]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: A Child Should Not See This John, Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Continental Hotel (John Wick), Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Gun Violence, I Don't Even Know, I Don't Write Third Person A Lot, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Going to make AU Offshoots of This Story, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, John Needs A Hug, John Wick Never Happened, Kinda, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, POV Third Person Omniscient, Parental Figure John Wick, Past Child Abuse, They Heal Together, To Be Continued, john is a good dad, people die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-03 19:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21184790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastPasty/pseuds/BreakfastPasty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastPasty/pseuds/BreakfastPastyDrabbles
Summary: John Wick is still fighting the grief of losing his wife when a new character is thrust into his life, inspiring him to make a change.ORThe Boogeyman accidentally adopts a child and doesn't really know how to parent, but he tries because he wanted kids before Helen died.





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue how to write children, but John Wick is basically me, minus the badassery.  
I wanted to set this in an Alternate Universe, where John didn't fuck up his life via offing Viggo and Santino.

It's been months since Helen had passed away. Daisy had grown so much and John was... John was Coping.  
He'd delved into his bookbinding and started keeping up his shooting and Judo, simply from the need to be doing something other than sitting and remembering.

John sat in his basement, on the floor with Daisy in his lap and a picture of his late wife held in his hands. He missed her. There was no denying that. His heart ached as he ran his fingers over her face, remembering how she'd smile when he stroked her cheeks and told her he loved her.

He'd kill to have her back, but not even John Wick would bring the dead back.

He'd gotten letters after his wife passed. Tonnes of them from people he hadn't even heard about in five years. Condolence letters from Viggo and Abram Tarasov. A business proposition from Santino D'Antonio. An invitation to a formal party from Winston at the Continental. He'd ignored them all, hiding them between the books in his office.

John's eyes filled with tears as he stared at the perpetually smiling face of his wife. He sobbed now, letting himself bask in the shade of his grief, for just now. He ignored Daisy's concerned whines and whimpers as he covered his eyes with one hand, the other pressing the photo to his heart.

He tried to forget. Forget Helen's laugh and how it was always so warm, even when the illness was the worst. Forget how they'd run around the garden when she was healthy. Alive. He tried to forget the quiet moments, curled up on the couch, talking about plans for the future. Pets, Cars, Children.

God, he so was broken.

Maybe, just maybe, if he could forget then the pain would go away. The constant ache and heaviness in his chest. The yearning and longing for the good times. For her.

John started when Daisy barked, a small yipping sound, as she tugged on his sleeve and looked up at him with wide watery eyes. That look and John knew.

"You want a walk?" John asked, wiping his eyes quickly with the back of his hand as he stood up. This was exactly what he needed. A distraction. He set the photo down on his desk, thumb moving over Helen's smiling lips for a second before turning away and racing Daisy up the stairs, accumulating a plan.

He'd take Daisy in the Car to the park, let her run around a bit, then head to the coffee shop across from his favourite book shop. Not that he needed any more books, but what's the harm in looking. He picked up the lead from the hook by the door as he opened it, "You wanna go to the park, Daisy?" He asked as she bounded outside, sniffing around in the front garden, yipping and huffing every now and then.

John smiled weakly and walked back into the house as he let Daisy do what she desperately needed to as he went to the car and ran a hand up the framework as he walked to the driver's side door, biting his lip. "And the car doesn't count." He said playfully to no-one but himself. He'd reread that last letter from Helen at least a hundred times and he couldn't say he was even ashamed he'd done it. John nodded and whistled, high and loud and waited for the scratch of claws on the wooden floor and sure enough, it didn't take too long.

Daisy scrambled down the steps into the garage, bouncing over John and waiting patiently. He opened the car door and waited for Daisy as she bounced in and across the seats, settling calmly in the passenger's seat. John scoffed slightly and got in, forgoing a seatbelt as he turned the key in the ignition and pulled out onto the drive.

The drive to the park is about twenty minutes on a good day. That being said, that day was no precisely a good day. He'd lost track of time with his work and his grieving and found himself on the road at 5 pm. Meaning he caught the traffic out of work. Not that he minded, driving was always a stress relief for him and with slow country music in the background, John found himself comfortable.

The sun was already setting when He parked up by the park and he sighed knowing now it was too late to catch either of the stores he wanted to. Serves him right for not checking the time before he made his master plan.

Daisy yipped excitedly as they hopped out of the car and onto the curb, walking the short distance onto the grass, John forgoing the lead because what police officer would stop him. Sure, it'd been years since he'd proved he was a force to be reckoned with but he still had his reputation.

"Stay close, girl," John said calmly as he let her dart around and explore as he strolled by her, keeping half an eye on Daisy.

"Excuse me!" The call came too late and John was barrelled to the ground by a teen on a bicycle.

"Sorry Mister!" The Kid didn't even stop.

John grumbled as he picked himself up, touching his head for a second, only to affirm that, no, he was not bleeding. A quick glance around and John became panicked, holding the leash he'd left unused in his hand tighter.

"Daisy?!" He called out and took off into the wilderness after where he'd last seen her. Where was she? She'd been right there when he'd fallen, how far could she had gotten?

"Daisy!"

A bark. High and Familiar. Daisy. He dashed towards it, ducking under branches and jumping over bushes and felled logs. John Wick skid to the stop when he saw her.

Daisy, his Daisy, was curled up and whining in the arms of a young girl. Said young girl was sprawled, half under a bush, blood running down her face, lips blue and bruises forming around her neck and down her legs. "My god..." John whispered to himself as he moved over, checking her pulse and breathing when he felt her frail pulse beneath his fingertips. He was stuck. He could leave her, and destroy this chance for redemption or he takes her- somewhere.

He couldn't go to the Hospital. No way. She looked nothing like him, he knew nothing about her and in this state the Hospital would only assume the worst and call the cops. John did not what to have to deal with all that.

John's eyes darkened as he started the treck back to the car, knowing exactly where he could go and knowing he'd have to make a fast trip home. If he broke every road law he could get home in ten minutes, get what he needed and start the next ten-minute drive to- where he could go.

The sky was black by the time John got to the Mustang, little Daisy running by his heels, the limp body in his arms seeming in a comfortable sleep, though John knew how much pain she must be in. The ex-hitman laid her across the backseats of his car, pulling his brown leather jacket off, and folding it to cushion her head. He buckled her in as best he could with her laid as she was and prayed it would be enough that she didn't get her with his driving.

He slid into his seat, with Daisy curling up on her own seat. The drive home was fast-paced and tense for JOhn, hope in his heart that the twenty-minute round-trip diversion wouldn't be too long for the injured child in his car.

John didn't even let Daisy out of the car as he dashed down to the basement, sledgehammer in his hand that he'd snagged from the garage on the way past.

He made quick work of the thin concrete he'd buried his history in, mind running through all of the possible circumstances that had landed the pale girl in his situation. Had she been beaten and abandoned? Kidnapped and Dumped?

There was no ceremony for his throwing the truck open, running through a routine he hadn't down in five years. He slid a gun and magazine into his waistband, quickly shrugging on a black suit jacket and grabbing a stack of shining golden coins, shoving them into his pocket with hate.

The run back to the car, still idling in the drive, was slower, John's breathing uneven and fast. He jumped in and glanced in the backseat, giving himself a moment to watch her chest rise and fall with slow and shallow breaths.

Hope.

He had to have hope.


	2. Continental Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Baba Yaga gets to the Continental and makes sure the girl is well looked after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I should clarify that this whole fic should've been titled 'Shaky Morals and Parenting Issues'.  
Also, this entire thing is self-indulgent. Guys being good with kids is adorable and even better when their not but it's obvious they are trying.

The Race to the Continental was too slow and too fast for John. He'd never wanted to go back when he'd met Helen, and now it was this or watch a child, a goddamn kid, die.

"Come on!" The words were angered and hopeless all at once as he swerved down a side street. He was vying to avoid the traffic as it clogged the toxic streets of the city that never sleeps but that never really went well. Every time he dodged one packed street, he hit yet another.

Fifteen minutes. It took fifteen minutes to get from John's hot in the suburbs to the Continental hotel. Fifteen minutes of stress and angered smacking of the steering wheel when he swerved into yet another blocked street. Fifteen minutes way too long.

The man hopped out of the car and onto the rain-wet streets, ignoring the valet and Daisy dancing around his heels as he flung the back door open. He'd need a hand to pay the concierge. "Fuck!"

He picked her up and spent a moment manoeuvring the both of them until the tiny girl was draped over his front like a koala. It was precarious and a little uncomfortable, but it was the easiest way to carry her and free a hand. He dashed up the steps and through the door after tossing his keys to the valet and praying the young man understood, a sigh of relief escaped him when he saw the same concierge he'd known years ago stood, unoccupied, behind the counter.

"Charon, is the doctor in?"

"Always, Mr Wick. Would you like a room and I will send him up?"

With a nod, John thrust two large gold coins towards him and held out a shaking, inpatient hand. "Please." John wished his voice has sounded stronger. Had sounded unconcerned and emotionless.

Charon gave him a knowing smile and his key, "Room 106, Mr Wick. The Doctor will be up as soon as he has a minute."

John nodded his thanks and jogged off towards the elevator, listening to the little kid's breathing as he held her to his chest. In. Out. Shallow. Short. Wheezing.

Daisy sat by his feet as he waited for the elevator to arrive in the lobby. 3. 2. 1. Ground. He jumped in and waited for Daisy to follow, spamming the button for the first floor. First floor. Third door on the left.

"Hurry up." The boogeyman growled at the infernal machine that took so long to close the doors, let alone climb floors. When the elevator had decided to pick up the pace, John ran, carrying the broken doll against his torso and whistling for Daisy to follow.

The door opened with a harsh push and John laid the girl in the bed, pulling a blanket tightly around her to try and warm her up from the early winter weather outside. He sat and finally gave himself a moment to catch his breath and look at the child he'd picked up.

She was tiny, something he'd noticed before, with pale, almost white skin, stained with new and old bruises. Her hair was white, though blood stained it pink and red in places. Her cheeks and nose were pink with the cold and her lips were a pale blue. She looked like an old victorian doll, dipped in bleach and left in a basement for years.

John sighed and ran his fingers slowly over her fair hair, "Stay with us, okay? Stay with us and I promise, I'll keep you safe." He whispered, fingers working some of the bloodied matts from her hair. Daisy joined the girl on the bed as the three waited for the Doctor. It didn't take long for John to grow paranoid, taking her small hand in his and flinching at how cold and delicate she was. "Stay with me." He mumbled, brain whipping him back to sitting at Helen's bedside in her last few days.

Helen had been so sick, barely managing to stay awake to talk with him, trying for smiles but in those final hours, she couldn't even open her eyes. Could even wake up to hear John's goodbye. His heart aches as he looked at the tiny girl in front of him, looking as peaceful as Helen had when she'd crush his heart.

John was forced from his thoughts by a knock sounding from the door. He bolted up, hand instinctually on the grip of his gun as he walked over and cracked the door open. The Doctor's familiar face peered up at the assassin and John's hand fell to open the door wider.

"Mr Wick?"

"Come in," John said, stepping out of the way for the more experienced man to enter.

"You look alright, Mr Wick, what did you need?"

"Help her?" John said and, pointing to the bed, he collapsed back into his armchair, watching the Doctor make his way around the barrier that separated the bed from the view of the door. The Older man paused when he saw the girl there, covered in a thick blanket and beaten.

"My God, John."

"Just! Help her!" John exclaimed and the Doctor understood, settling his briefcase on the bedside table and pulling the blanket back to assess the damage. He did not doubt that she had a concussion, especially with whatever blow had caused her to bleed so much. The bruises were so mangled together that the Doctor was sure something was broken, but upon a little poking and prodding at the areas of the most concentrated mottling, he was surprised that he was wrong.

"She's so cold, when did you find her?"

"Maybe an hour ago? I can't tell you how long she was there."

The doctor nodded his understanding and prepped an antiseptic wipe, dragging it slowly across the torn skin of her knees, elbows and the large cut on her forehead. The lack of reaction from the burning sensation worried the doctor and he took a second to listen to her small wheezing breathes. The Medical man nodded and applied butterfly stitches to her forehead and looked into his briefcase, reading a need with antivirals and cleaning an area on her arm. He hoped this would help her. He did not want to be on the Boogeyman's bad side.

John raised an eyebrow as the needle slid into the girl's paper-white skin, "Will she need that again?"

"Most likely."

John nodded and looked over the pale girl again, before the Doctor started speaking, only given him time to notice the torn state of her thin clothing.

"Try and keep her warm, when she wakes up, get her fluids, and she'll need to take one of these," The Doctor shook an orange bottle of pulls that made a noise so loud that John physically winced, "Every 6 hours, unless she's asleep, okay?"

John nodded, finally realising that he's just adopted this girl and pulled her and himself back into a life he'd left.

"Okay, Call me when she wakes up." The doctor left them with that and closed the door behind himself, hoping that the Baba Yaga had actually listened to him.


	3. Names and Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has a bizarre dream, Jimmy gives a helping hand and we learn Names and Places.

Hours Passed and John passed out, Daisy moving to lay in his lap as they slept. John dreamt of Helen, smiling at him as she slouched on their couch in the living room, stomach swollen with their baby. It wasn't a memory and that's what confused John as he moved closer to his wife.

"She's gonna be so Beautiful, John." Helen said slowly, sounding contemplative as she stroked her baby bump, "And Brave. Just like her daddy."

"Helen?"

"You have to look after her, you hear me?"

"I-"

"She's gonna be scared and alone, you have to look after her, Mr Wick. For us."

Helen looked so... certain and John panicked, not quite sure what was happening but unable to escape the horrifying feeling that something was rotten there, just beneath the calm surface that Helen showed him.

"I don't understand."

"Yes, you do, John. I love you."

The dream faded and John tried to reach for the fading image of his pregnant wife but it was way too late now. She was Gone. John Wick was awake.

John let out a frustrated groan and buried his face in his hands before looking around. The Continental. The girl, still asleep, having shifted on her own in her sleep was now buried in blankets. John sighed and stroked Daisy's fur slowly as he gave himself a moment to think. Really think.

He'd picked up a child in a park. A child that was beaten and bruised, and clearly not his. He'd dug up his past and brought said child to a hotel full of criminals.

He needed a plan. An actual, focused plan. The girl was asleep, so he couldn't ask her where she was from or what happened to her. But he'd have to ask that eventually.

He'd call Jimmy. Ask if any missing children reports matched her description. If not, he'd wait. He didn't have any other choices after that.

John walked out onto the balcony, painfully aware that the morning chill was biting into his bones as he looked out at the rising sun as it crested over the buildings.

Jimmy's phone number took some remembering, but that wasn't surprising. John hadn't called it in way longer than 5 years. 7? 8, maybe.

"Hello?" Jimmy's voice was quiet and groggy at the end of the line. He'd been asleep and John hadn't even thought of it.

"Hey, Jimmy. It's John, I need a favour."

"You working again?"

"Not quite, Jimmy, Do you know if there have been any missing kids reports filed for a girl with white hair? Maybe 8 or 9 years old?"

"John? What are you-"

"Just answer the question, Jimmy."

"Not... Not that I remember, John. I'm a beat cop, not Missing Persons."

John rubbed his forehead. Conversations were never his strong suit and here he was, trying to enquire about a topic that would only bring more questions than answers. Not that he had too much of a choice other than this.

"Could you ask around and text me?"

"Sure, G'night John."

"Night Jimmy."

The soft click of the line going dead brought so much stress to John. He didn't want to ask the Kid! Whatever had caused her to be in this state, like this, in this situation, had to be stressing. He glanced through the glass balcony good, seeing her fragile form, asleep under the cover and another blanket. A strong urge to push the hair from her face, to kiss her forehead and tell her everything would be okay, that he would protect her, tore through John and he walked back in.

"Please wake up, Doll."

John sat at the end of the bed and waited.

After not too long, he became deadly aware of the growing ache in his stomach. Food. He needed food. Picking up the white landline on the bedside table was calming, more so that it should've been. He punched in the number for room service and calmly ordered two bowls of bran flakes, one with milk and one without, a plate of pancakes, covered in clingfilm, and a couple of bottles of water.

The least he could do was make sure she survived and feed her breakfast. Room Service promised that his food would be there as soon as possible and John thanked them quickly before hanging up.

He glanced at Daisy and bit his lip, aware that she'd need a walk and he was needed in the hotel, for his- for the girl.

Moments passed, Room Service came and went, John and Daisy, ate their Bran flakes calmed and waited. Waited for the nameless girl to wake up.

It was noon when she woke up, wiping her eyes to make it easier to open them. She whined at the pain in her fingers, her eyes, her head. Everywhere. She touched her forehead as she opened her eyes finally. She checked her fingers and sighed when she saw blood, She looked over her body and ran her fingers over the dark bruises on her thighs, her sides, then her wrists. She let her hands fall to rest on the white blanket.

The Room wasn't hers. That was the second thing she noticed when she'd adapted to the throbbing pain in her body. The room was too pristine to be here, too white and big. She lived in a room with water-stained blue walls, floral wallpaper peeling. The walls here were so white that the bright sun from the windows blinded her.

Windows. Unboarded, but closed. Furniture. Chairs, a table, a bookshelf, full of titles she couldn't make out at this distance.

The thing that clued her in to the fact that she wouldn't be hurt here was the large plate of pancakes, covered in shiny foil. A small smile tugged at her cracked lips as she shuffled closer to dig in, shivering and pulled the blankets and the remains of her tank top closer to her in an attempt to stave off the cold.

John walked back in from the balcony, having stepped out to try and ease his nerves, and froze, seeing the girl who'd been so far gone from the world not ten minutes ago, now sat up and breaking off pieces of 7-hour old pancakes to stuff her face with. She looked so alive like this. Sat up and moving.

Daisy dashed over and jumped onto the bed, making the girl stop what she was doing. She didn't own a dog. She didn't even know anyone who did. Her suspension of disbelief came crashing down and she jerked away from the overexcitable beagle and the cold pancakes, ignoring the ache that tore through every muscle and fibre of her being.

She glanced around the room again and her eyes settled on the tall figure of a man, dressed in blue jeans, a white crew-neck t-shirt and a black blazer jacket.

"what's your name?" John asked as he sat down, fair enough away that hopefully, she'd be comfortable enough to talk to him.

"Where am I? Who are you?" The girl was panicking and John could see it in her pale pink eyes as she curled up against the pillows, pulling the warm blankets back to her chest in a hope it would make the intimidating man disappear and fight the cold from her bones.

John raised his hands, "Easy." He started like he was trying to sooth a spooked animal, so unsure of what he was going, "I found you, hurt and cold in Central Park, I brought you here- We're in a hotel- to warm up and receive medical attention. I'm John. John wick."

The girl seemed to understand that he didn't mean to hurt her, but she didn't let her guard down, still coiled into a ball against the headboard. John held his sigh of relief as he put his hands down and tried again, "What's your name?"

"Lavender..."

"What's your last name, Lavender?"

"Black."


	4. Questionable Parenting Methods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John leaves the child on her own for the lesser part of an hour and we get an exposition dump.

The two of them fell into silence after that, neither of them knowing what to say. John didn't want to ask her about her situation but the lack of anything else to say was creating an awkward silence. After a moment or so, he remembered what the doctor had said after a couple of minutes and looked over to the bedside, where the orange pill bottle sat next to the bottle of water. "You need to take one of those." He said quietly, leaning forward in his seat.

Lavender tensed, "W-Why?" She whispered and looked at him, then at the bottle of pills, picking it up to read the name of the bottle. Tylenol. "Am I sick?" She corrected her question. Her throat did feel scratchy, but she'd assumed that was from sleep and other than that she couldn't feel anything but the pain from her injuries.

John lent forward, elbows braced on his knees as he looked at her. He didn't ask the doctor. "I don't know. The doctor told me you needed to take them. One every six hours." He relayed the information and hoped the girl trusted him enough to believe what he was saying as truth.

Lavender thought for a moment. She didn't know this man. She didn't know the doctor. But if the doctor was actually a doctor then there wasn't much harm this could do. And John hadn't done anything to harm her- quite the opposite actually, he'd brought her to a warm and comfortable place and spent his own money on food.

The girl nodded and spent a second trying to open the pill bottle, shaking hands and numbed fingers fumbling with the cap. John stopped, trying to bite back a smile at the fact that she'd believed him. Trusted him. There weren't many people who did. John held out a hand to her and she set the bottle in it, not looking up at him. She was embarrassed, she hadn't been able to it herself.

John opened the bottle and set a pill on the bedside table, setting the now open bottle next to it. With a drop of foresight, John picked up one of the two water bottles, opening it for her and setting it next to the other things before returning to his seat to sit.

The pale girl smiled weakly, "Thank you."

"No problem."

Lavender's smile brightened for a moment before she took the pill and swallowed it down with a few gulps of cold water. She tried to fight the small gagging noise that always left her after this sort of thing but it escaped her none the same and John bit back a scoff of laughter.

Daisy whined and nuzzled up against the albino girl, head pressing into her hand and Lavender giggled softly, chest shaking softly as she pets the puppy, not used to being near a dog. Or any animal really. "Her name is Daisy," John said calmly for afar. The girl nodded and curled up with Daisy in her lap, leaning against her chest.

Lavender spent maybe ten minutes just fussing over Daisy and John had given up trying to fight his smile at this point. Seeing this girl, who'd obviously been through hell, laughing and smiling over something he'd started to take for granted, his dog's attention. It made him smile. A real, genuine smile for the first time in months.

Although this was so sweet, John nodded to himself as he made a resolve, "Lavender? Do you want a shower?" He said calmly, eyes on her blood-matted hair and the crusted, smeared blood on her forehead.

Lavender nodded mindlessly as she hugged Daisy to her chest, stroking her fur before stopping, "I don't have clothes with me..." She mumbled and looked at him, eyes wide before Daisy licked her chest and she jerked away, laughing.

John nodded softly, remember that this girl had nothing of her own. "You could probably wear one of my shirts? Are a dress? While we go shopping for clothes for you?" He suggested, before remembering that no. He didn't have any clothes with him either. He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair biting his lip to stop himself from swearing in front of the girl.

"I could give you my size and you could go shopping while I shower?" Lavender suggested softly and smiled, trying to lighten his mood as she saw him struggling so much to help her. She didn't know why he'd dedicated himself to doing so, but she was thankful for her guardian angel.

John nodded, "Promise you won't go anywhere until I get back? Cause I wanna take Daisy with me so she can stretch her legs." John hummed, giving himself over to this idea. It seemed sensible enough to him and when Lavender nodded her head, he agreed.

Lavender jotted down her sizes for everything and handed over the short shopping list to John. The two of them stood awkwardly for a second before John put Daisy on her lead, "I'll be back in a bit." he promised and walked out, closing and- for good measure- locking the door behind him.

The girl spent a moment longer in the soft bed, before getting up and walked, hobbling, to the bathroom. The bathroom was a large, marble space, the shower was a small section that was blocked off by a slate of black marble, but the door was glass. The sink was inset in a white marble counter underneath a large, wall-length mirror that showed her the mess she was in and now she understood why 'John' was determined she shower.

She didn't waste any time, closing the bathroom door before pulling off her thin, destroyed clothes, setting the short skirt and camisole on the counter next to the sink, pulling a towel off of the rack and setting it next to them. She walked into the shower cubicle and turned on the hot water, thankful for the warmth as it ran down her back and shoulders, drawing trails through the blood and dirt on her skin.

After a moment of just standing under the water and enjoying the spray, she picked up the shampoo bottle that sat on a small shelf next to the conditioner, shower gel and a loofah. She did two washes with shampoo, rubbing it into the pink and red matts, ignoring the tears that had started running down her face as she struggled to clean herself. Conditioner went in and washed back out and Lavender knew it hadn't done much good like that, though she didn't care.

She covered the loofah in body wash and started scrubbing, the abrasive sponge tugging at scabs and healing cuts, cleaving through the filth on her skin as she remembered what had led her to this place with this person she didn't know.

Lavender was the youngest in her family, with 5 older brothers, two fathers and her mother. As a result of her being the youngest, Lavender was the servant. She was ordered to cook, clean, and do as she was told from the minute she was old enough to understand instructions. Her mother taught her how to read and write whenever Lavender was cleaning in her mother's room and her fathers taught her that if she didn't do as she was told she'd be beaten and used.

That was life for 9 years.

The night before John had found her, the worst had happened. Her mother had stepped in to protect her as she always tried to, but they'd beaten the older woman to the brink of death. She didn't survive the night.

Lavender ran away the following night before the beatings came, escaping out the back door and into the street. She didn't know the city, having never been let outside, so she ran as far as she could in one direction, bare feet hitting the rough concrete as she ran. She fell, stumbling over her own feet, head cracking off a dumpster and knees scraping on the door. 

She picked herself up, eyes bleary and head aching as she kept running, finding her feet on grass after a while. She was so tired. So tired and it all hurt so much. She was terrified her fathers would find her, would punish her. 

After scrambling through the greenery for maybe half an hour, unable to really see where she was going, Lavender collapsed, curling up under the foliage to die, or at least, that's what she thought.

The albino girl picked herself up off the shower floor, shaking with her sobs as she tried to forget it all. She had a chance now. For a better life. She didn't have a right to be sad or to let 'John' know that she was so conflicted. She knew nothing about the outside world and yet here she was.

Lavender finished washing herself off, turning off the shower before she limped out of the cubicle to dry herself off, with the incredibly plush towel. She didn't get far. She curled up on the bathroom floor, burying herself in multiple towels as she waited for the man with the dog to get back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter needs explaining a little.
> 
> Her fathers are not in a relationship together, not that I have anything against same-sex relationships, they were in a polyamorous relationship with Lavender's mother and basically just using her to create kids. 
> 
> A bit not Good.
> 
> I'm so sorry if this chapter was hard to read or didn't make a lot of sense, I was trying to figure out a way of it being informative and also enjoyable to read.


	5. A New Wardrobe and Some Emotional Realisations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John comes back and There's a small heart to heart!

John had to admit, he may have gone overboard when it came to clothes shopping for this new ward. He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but it took him about an hour with change. He headed all around the city, picking up clothing he hoped would make her comfortable.

An hour and ten minutes later, John walked into the hotel room again. It was quiet, and he couldn't see Lavender as he let Daisy off her leash. "Lavender?" he called out even though the name didn't feel right on his tongue, setting the bags on the bed as he looked around. She couldn't have gotten out. The Balcony didn't go anywhere and the front door was locked.

"Bathroom!" A small voice called out and John let out a tiny sigh of relief to know she was still alive and not anymore harmed than  
when he'd found her.

"Alright, I'm gonna go onto the balcony so you can get dressed." He said calmly and walked out, closing the curtains and the glass doors. He sat on the small stool and listened to the cars as they flew down the street. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face before leaning back to play with the wedding ring that still decorated his finger.

He shook his head, silently promising to Helen that he'd make sure everything was alright. He bit his lip hard before pressing his lips to the golden band around his finger. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he'd try to look after this broken girl.

There was a gentle tap on the balcony door after around ten minutes and John nodded softly, getting up and going in. The bags that had been thrown on the bed were now neatly organised at the end of it and Lavender was sat, with her legs handing off the edge. She was dressed now, wearing a grey sweater with red ribbons at the elbows. It hung off her, maybe a size or two too big, but she did look comfortable. She was wearing matching grey Dr Martens and thick black jeans.

"Comfortable?"

"Very."

Lavender was telling the truth, looking at her new shoes to avoid eye contact. She was scared. Not of the man, John, he'd given her no reason to be afraid of him. Admittedly, that, in and of itself, made her a little paranoid. Lavender was scared of what the future would hold with the two of them. Or if there would be a 'two of them' after a small while.

She was scared he would give her over to the foster system, or even worse try and find her parents. She didn't want to do back there, she didn't want to have to be alone anymore.

John bit his lip, trying to think of something to say or do as he watched this girl physically and emotionally withdraw, hugging her chest as her eyes turned glassy with whatever was running through her head. He hated this. He wanted to help this girl, but he knew nothing about kids.

He took a deep breath and knelt in front of her, so she was taller than him as he took her hands in his. Her hands were so small in comparison that the words that he was trying to form gave up in his throat. She was so small and delicate and he had promised to protect her.

"Lavender," He started, looking up into her pink eyes, "I promise, I'm going to keep you safe." He said and tried to think of more words to express what he meant, "I know you're scared, and I know you have no reason to trust me, but I hope you understand that I will never hurt you." he continued, smiling up at her gently. She looked so surprised that he had to bite back his laughter. 

"And if you want me to take you home, to have nothing to do with me then-"

"No!" Lavender said quickly, eyes widening as they filled with tears, "Please... no..." she whispered and hugged him, tightly now, fighting back the instant urge to pull away that had been tugging at her since he'd taken a hold of her hands. She wasn't good with this sort of thing but she hoped it would be enough to show she trusted him. Maybe not completely, but she trusted him enough.

John was a little caught off guard when the girl hugged him, before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulled her to his chest gently. He didn't want to hold her too tight in fear she'd panic again, but this seemed to be okay. They were okay for now.

"It's okay... I've got you," John tried when he realised that she was sobbing, crying into his shoulder. He stroked her hair slowly and pulled away, wiping her eyes slowly, and holding her jaw softly, "You're okay." He whispered and stood up, "Do you have anything you want to do?" He asked softly, stroking her white hair away from her face.

Lavender didn't know how to answer or what to do. She wanted to explore the city because it was so new to her, but she didn't want to explore the city because it was so unknown to her. Maybe she could start with the hotel. If John was with her, she was safe, so why not explore a little. She looked up at him, forcing a smile onto her face as she fiddled with her sleeves, "Could we maybe look around the hotel?" She suggested before looking down.

This was a dumb idea.

He didn't want her to explore that's why he locked the door when he'd left to get clothes. She wasn't supposed to know who other people were, then they could call her parents and she' be taken back into that godforsaken-

"Definitely." John hummed and offered her a hand, "I have some friends I'm sure you'd like to meet." he added, waiting patiently for her to take his hand. He wasn't sure if she would, but he hoped it would be a comforting gesture.

The Boogeyman smiled when the child took his hand, leading her out into the hallway, with Daisy running after them. The girl giggled as the puppy dashed around their feet. She let go of John's hand as they made their way to the elevator, hoping that he wouldn't mind, but her palms were sweating from the nerves of the day. 

The three of them stood in the elevator as it slowly started to descend, Lavender playing the sleeves of her sweater as she watched Daisy sniff around the moving box. She wondered, for a brief moment, what it was like to be a dog, and if it was as difficult as being a human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having writer's block.  
If you couldn't tell.  
But I wanted to get a chapter out so here we have 1134 words of filler! I promise that the next chapter where will be Winston or Charon. Or Both.  
Either way, there will be more things happening!


	6. Johnathon and The Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnathon introduces Lavender to Winston and the adults have a talk.

The lobby was packed full of people, faces all unfamiliar to little Lavender as she stayed to John's side, stuck between whether or not she should take his hand or just stay close. The number of people was a little daunting for the young girl but she tried to focus on the little things to get through it.

Things like how Daisy seemed to be so at home among all the people. Like how John kept looking down at her to be sure she was safe. Like how most of the people turned to look at him like he was Royalty. That last one made her more nervous than calmed, but she elected to ignore it, sticking to her guardian's side like glue.

The line to the man John wanted to speak to was short, despite the number of people and John was thankful for it. He could tell Lavender wasn't doing well in the crowds and the faster he could move her away from the people the better.

"Mr Wick, is everything alright?" Charon asked with a smile as the three of them arrived at the front of the line and John gave him a quick smile in return.

"Is management in?"

"On the Roof, Sir, Would you like me to announce you?"

"Yes Please," John said calmly before looking at little Lavender. The only way up to the roof was via the stairs and he doubted that she could climb all those stairs after what she'd been through. He walked to the base of the stairwell and looked at her for a second. How could he propose this?

"Do you think you can do the stairs?" He started and Lavender shook her head, looking down at Daisy where she sat by their feet. She hated being weak and yet when she thought about it, she didn't think there was a time when she was anything but. "Would you mind if I carried you?" The man asked again, looking down at her and for some reason, there was a small amount of pain in her chest. She didn't know if it was the bruises or something else but she nodded her head.

"I'll try to walk." She said quietly and smiled up at him, to give herself a little confidence that she could do it. John nodded and they started up the stairs.

After five or six flights, John became frightfully aware that Lavender had fallen behind and when her footsteps stopped completely he turned to look at her. The Pale girl was stood, one hand on her ribs and the other gripping the stair-rail. John's heart ached. He couldn't help but think of Helen on her bad days when she couldn't do some of the simplest things because her hands were shaking or her legs were weak, but she refused help because She was Helen Wick. She didn't need help.

John jogged back down the stairs to the landing where Lavender had stopped, crouching next to her, "Lavender? are you okay?" He asked before realising how fucking stupid that question was, "Let me help you," He took her hands, "Please..."

Lavender hated this. Not John. Not the pain. The guilt. She was holding him back because she couldn't do something as easy as climbing the stairs. Tears formed in her eyes and she nodded, cover her face as she tried to stop the tears from falling too quickly. "It's okay, doll, you don't need to cry." He whispered to her and wrapped his arms around her gently before moving her onto his back.

Lavender sniffled and pushed back her tears, holding onto him tightly as she tried to stop her tears. The trip up the stairs took ten minutes in total and when they hit the final landing John let her down, crouching to wipe the tear tracks from her cheeks, "Are you okay, Lavender?" He asked softly as he sat back on his heels.

John had no clue how he felt about all of this, but he assumed that maybe, just maybe Winston would give him some information on the girl's family, or lack there-of. He didn't have much information, just a name and a crime. That should be enough. He smiled when the little girl put on a brave face and nodded. She was so much like Helen and all at once, not at all.

John stood up and offered her his hand, unsurprised when she refused his offer. He knew that trust was gained by inches and lost by miles. They hadn't known each other for two days and the progress was already more than he's expected.

The last flight was easier, but that was expected, John was no longer carrying a small child. The door onto the roof still stuck slightly when you tried to open it and for some reason, it gave him so much nostalgia to know that. He held the door for Lavender so she could walk out onto the rooftop garden, not that it was much to look at this time of year. The bushes had lost their leaves and the flowers that died months ago.

Winston was sat at a table in the middle, a newspaper in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He hadn't seemed to notice them yet and John bit back a smile, "Winston?" He called and the older man looked up, before setting his paper and cup down, looking at him, then down at Lavender and then at John again. 

"Johnathon!" He exclaimed and stood up, "It's been so long, old friend, how are you- I was so sorry to hear about your wife."

John tensed slightly and forced a smile, "I'm doing okay, thank you." He said and looked at Lavender, "Lavender, this is Winston, he's the owner of the hotel."

Lavender smiled weakly at the older man and waved a little, "Hi," she didn't know what to say. This man held such an air of... of... distinction? Respect? She imagined that this is what it was like to stand before a god and it made her nervous. What made her even more nervous was when the man spoke again.

"Is this your daughter?" 

John coughed slightly, "No. No, She's my ward." He scrambled to deny it and for a reason, he couldn't quite place why, it made his chest hurt, the same way it had before when he'd seen so much of Helen in her. "I need to talk to you about her," He started but stopped when he felt the girl tugging at his sleeve. He looked down at her and she gave him that same small smile before looking down.

"Do you want me to go wait?" She asked and pointed to the bench at the edge of the roof that looked like it was mainly used for birds. John thought for a moment before nodding, and crouching for a second.

"It's nothing bad, okay? Just go sit and I'll come and get you and Daisy when we're done, alright?" He said calmly, smiling up at her for a moment before getting up and letting her jog away to the bench, Daisy at her heel.

"Are you sure she isn't your daughter, Johnathon? You act like her father." 

John ignored him and moved onto a subject he could discuss better than his emotions for a child that wasn't his. "I need you to do me a favour, for old times sake, Winston."

"What is it you need, Johnathon?"

"I need you to look into her family." He said nervously, rubbing his hands against his denim trousers as he sat down with Winston. The older man looked curious as to the situation and John quickly remembered that he had no clue about anything to do with this situation. He'd simply assumed she'd been beaten by someone at home, from her injuries and her persistent want not to go home.

"I don't know anything about this girl, but I have a feeling what she's from isn't great." He continued, moving his hands above the table out of habit.

"Johnathon, you know I can't work miracles. Tell me what you think and I'll ask around, you know that's the best I can do."

John took a deep breath, sparing a glance towards the girl in question and smiling when he saw her playing fetch with Daisy. "Her name is Lavender Black, I'm fairly certain she's from a history of abuse." He said as he turned back to Winston, "I don't have the heart to ask her."

"Johnathon!" Winston said, tone scolding much like that of a father to his son, "Empathy in our line of work?"

"I'm retired."

"Are you now? You come here, to The Continental, to ask me for information? Because you're retired?" Winston said and lent forward, folding his hands over the table in the same way Johnathon had, "Have you really thought about this, Johnathon? About the risks, you're putting the both of you in? You're asking for information about the family who abused this child, what do you do then, Johnathon?"

John hadn't thought about any of this. He'd been so focused on his mission, which whether or not he admitted it, was to protect the girl and hurt those who had hurt her and now. He admitted it to himself. He was back. Not for himself, for her.

"And if I'm aware that once I do this I'll be back? if I'm ready to protect both of us."

"I'd tell you that the Sommelier's open hours are from 8 am to midnight and I'll have what information I can find on her and her family sent to your room tomorrow morning?"

"Thank you, Winston." John sighed softly and rubbed his hands together before getting up, Winston following him to his feet and over to the Girl where she sat with Daisy. John smiled at her and nodded, "Let's go."

Lavender took a deep breath and hopped up, gritting her teeth into a smile as she masked the pain in her ribs. Winston seemed like a nice man, or at least, nice enough for John to trust him and that gave Lavender hope that she'd come to trust him in time. John patted his thigh as they walked away, Daisy dashing after them as they got to the door. Lavender bit her lip as she looked at the stairs. Her ribs hurt and she doubted she could even make it halfway down.

"Can you carry me?" The girl whispered, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with the sleeves of her coat. John smiled and picked her up, holding her on his back as he had on the way up. He didn't mind, in fact, he knew that her asking was a show of trust.

Maybe not a big one, but a show of trust none the less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter took twice as long to write but now I'm pretty proud of how it turned out!


	7. Cabonara and a Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Lavender get food to eat and memories sour the taste of Strawberry milkshake for the both of them.

The way back down the stairs was easier than the way up and when they hit the bottom, John set her down two steps up, smiling back at her when she hopped down them. "Are you hungry?" He asked softly and looked down at her, half hoping she'd say yes cause he could've eaten a horse at that moment. Honestly, He was starved.

Lavender smiled up at him with that small, weak smile she had before nodding. She didn't say anything, but he assumed she was tired of being social for the day so he didn't push her. "Do you wanna eat here, or go out and eat?"

Lavender actually had to think about that. She'd actually never been out to eat, and she assumed there would be a large number of people either way. She bet the worst-case scenario, either way, would be that she see her family, but for some reason John made her feel safe. Like no-one could hurt her.

"Can we go out?" She whispered and looked up at the Boogeyman with wide, hopeful, pink eyes and he smiled down at her, nodding.

"I don't see why not." He agreed calmly and looked at the both of them, "Do you want to get a coat on before we go, it's still cold out there." Lavender thought it before nodding quickly. If it was as cold as she remembered it being, then it would be best. John nodded and walked with her to the elevator with a hope that maybe, just maybe, the damned device would be faster than it normally was.

He hoped they could get to Gino's before the midday heat really disappeared. 

It took twenty minutes, to get to the room, get the tags off of Lavender's new coat and console her that, no, it wasn't too expensive and, yes, it was really hers and it was okay for her to wear. 

The drive to Gino's Diner was a short one, maybe five minutes. It was finding a parking space in the area that was harder and they ended up driving the mustang around for another fifteen minutes before parking and heading in.

Gino's was owned by the Italian's, so of course, when they saw the boogeyman walk in he was given their best treatment with just as much given to his small companion. 

Lavender was a little shocked at being treated like a princess, but these complete strangers, who helped her into her seat and gave her a menu covered in foods she barely even recognise, let alone pronounce. She looked to John for help before seeing that he was intently reading the menu and probably didn't want to help her either way.

She read through the bits she understood and smiled upon seeing something she recognised! Lasagne! She loved Lasagne when... when her mother made it. Her heart ached suddenly as she set her menu down, trying to hold herself together. It wasn't polite to cry in public. 

"Lavender? Are you alright?"

The little girl nodded and covered her face, "Mm okay." She whimpered and curled herself into a ball, her breathing heavy and her eyes aching behind her hands. She didn't even hear John move around the table to kneel by her seat where Daisy had settled herself.

"Lavender, you're okay, alright, you're okay. Just breath." He whispered and took her hands in his, looking up at her. John, again, had no clue what to do in this situation and resulted in holding her hands close to him and trying to steady her breathing. He didn't care if there were twenty or so people staring at them from around the restaurant. He was trying to calm his... his ward.

Lavender slowly calmed her breathing and the pain behind her eyes dulled to almost nothing as she turned her head finally to look at the Baba Yaga as he knelt beside her. Why was he helping her? She'd gotten her mother killed and now this man who barely knew here had spent so much time and money on her. She was so confused.

John found his feet again and looked down at her, "Did you decide what you wanted?" He asked as he slid into his seat again, trying not to make eye contact. He didn't understand what exactly was going on and that worried him. He was the boogeyman and this kid- this little broken girl, she was melting him.

Lavender nodded slowly, "Could I get the- the- Ca-bon-ah-ra?"

"The Carbonara?"

Lavender nodded slowly. It was the only thing on the menu that sounded appealing without making her want to cry. John didn't disagree with her. The Carbonara there was his favourite part of the restaurant. That and the good service, but he was sure that was due to the fear factor from who he was and what he could do. He wouldn't, he was retired, but that threat was still there. 

John beckoned one of the waiters over and ordered two of the dish for them and two of the strawberry milkshakes. He wasn't sure if Lavender liked strawberries or milkshakes, but if she didn't, he'd drink it. He didn't need to worry though, because when he looked at the little girl he saw that her face and burst into a grin and she was wiggling in her seat. She stopped when then pain because too much to enjoy the thought of milkshakes and spaghetti.

The food was delivered in little to no time and John smiled, sipping his milkshake through the metal straw. He closed his eyes and sighed softly at the taste. It was so damn good, but as he pulled away, the nostalgia his and the memories. He used to bring Helen here. Before her sickness. They'd ordered spaghetti and meatballs every time and a jumbo milkshake with two straws. It hurt. He hated that it hurt, that memory that he promised himself he'd look back on with a smile when he remembered how many times their noses had bumped together then they were trying to get a drink. Or the mess Helen always made. 

"Sir?"

John jerked and almost spilt his milkshake as the child jerked him from his memory. He wanted to thank her for jerking him from those thoughts. "Yes?"

"Are you alright? You went real quiet." She whispered, stabbing a piece of bacon with her fork as she avoided eye contact. It was clear she thought he was going to be mad at her. He wasn't. Not in the slightest, but he didn't exactly know how to describe what he was going through to a kid. He knew she'd probably seen death, and he knew she'd definitely see more of it if she stuck with him. But He didn't know how to describe grief. 

"I'm okay," He said calmly and set his milkshake down on the table, picking up his fork in place of it. He was starved and little thought went into eating other than to get the food inside of him. Clearly the way he was eating was humorous because it didn't take long before Lavender was in fits of giggles. He assumed he'd covered his face in white carbonara sauce and really he didn't mind too much about it. Seeing her laugh, really laugh, brought a grin to his face and made a show of wiping his face clean, "Did I get it?" He asked.

Lavender burst into another fit of giggles, shaking her head. He really hadn't. He had sauce stuck all throughout his beard and Lavender could barely breathe through her giggles as she tried her hardest to point out where it was only for him to completely miss it with the napkin. 

This little joke lasted for maybe a few minutes before John caught the sauce that she meant and they returned to eating. Lavender was a surprisingly clean eater, especially for her age and the dish. He'd expected to be smothered in the stuff by the time she'd finished. That, however, was not the case and she only had a little on the end of her nose that she wiped up quickly after he pointed it out to her. 

After the Carbonara, John asked if she wanted anything for dessert, to which she politely refused, quietly stating that she'd like to return to the hotel. Again, John didn't argue, afraid that he'd push her too far and she'd lose all trust in him. It wasn't that he believed she was fragile- actually, that was precisely what it was. He knew that whatever she'd been through was enough to hurt her, physically and mentally, and he didn't want to worsen those wounds by childishly demanded dessert. 

John paid for the food and the guys at Gino's bid them a good journey before they headed out to where John managed to dump the car before they'd gone in. 

The drive back to the hotel was as quiet and brisk as the drive to Gino's diner. Daisy laid in Lavender's lap the entire drive back, pretending to sleep as the little girl stroked her soft fur. Lavender was starting to get tired as well, not only from the emotions of her near breakdown at dinner. But also from the warm food and the peaceful atmosphere that eased her into a light sleep in the passenger seat of the Boogeyman's Mustang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic, huh?  
It's like 90% filler and that's? Not great?  
It doesn't help that this chapter was just cranked out cause I needed to participate in a Word Sprint/Write-in for NaNoWriMo.  
I didn't even read back through the other chapters.  
I just grabbed the dregs of my memory and sprinted. I hope it's not too bad, I tried to compensate with cuteness and moodiness


End file.
